Hopes and Wishes, Wants and Prayer
by TARDISTRANSPORT
Summary: Forbodium Castle, the breaker of ties and sire of sorrow. Shot, and closer to death than anyone has any right to be, but is he really alone?


Blood pooled around them, mixing with the rainwater until the top of the tower was drenched with its odour.

They had broken down the door and rushed out, only to stare in horror. Blood. Blood. Blood. It permeated the scene, every sense, every surface, every layer. Justin came behind, almost crashing into them. The only reason he didn't was because of what he had glimpsed in front of his companions.

They thought for sure the bodies on the ground had passed on, until one of the figures coughed feebly.

Alfendi Layton coughed up blood. They ran to him, desperately searching for a pulse, finding only a weak one, fading fast. Having no time to be delicate, Justin heaved Al up in a fireman's carry and rushed down the castle, Hilda frantically calling emergency services, the commissioner requesting the squad to come and secure the scene.

The ambulance arrived. They rushed him to the hospital.

He had been hooked up to every machine on God's earth, the doctors doing their absolute best to get him to stabilise. Heart monitors, IVs, blood bags, oxygen masks, everything.

Frankly, he was lucky he was even alive. Functioning would be a miracle. A very, very distant miracle, the doctors said. A slug to the chest, just barely missing his heart? He should buy a lottery ticket. Or stay away from cars. They weren't quite sure which.

The commissioner would sometimes visit, giving a respectful funeral salute. Scotland Yard had lost members before, and each time, it felt like a crook was knifing his heart. And since it was the son of his old friend… The crook was twisting it mercilessly. In his long years, he had learned that miracles were far and few in between. But he prayed for one nonetheless.

Then came Justin, and they could barely keep him away from Al, he was worrying so much. He even read to him, though Al was too far gone at the moment to even listen. At times though, when he wouldn't read, a look of deep regret would appear on his face, but it was tempered with a steady air of determination. He wanted Al to be fine, regardless of what he did.

Hilda was beside herself, being the person who visited him the most. On the rare times when someone else's visit coincided with hers, only the most observant would see a flash of pain so deep it was obvious she had feelings for him before they solidified into a brittle shell of a smile. She snuck there whenever she had the chance to. Every time she left, she would always wish Al the best, and departed, promising to come back tomorrow, carefully composing her face so that she could pretend she was fine.

His father came, the great Hershel Layton himself. He would always come in, tears in his eyes. But a true gentleman must never make a scene, no? He would stand and stare, refusing to take a seat while his son was broken in front of him. His hands moved towards him on their own accord, only to frantically snatch themselves away when they got too close. He shook his head sadly, too afraid to touch his fragile-looking son, dwarfed by the giant, beeping machines around him.

But he would not take off his hat. Wherever there was life, there would always be hope. And he intended to keep clinging to that hope however small it may be until it was impossible to do so.

Everyone would breathe a sigh of relief as the life support machines were taken off one by one, until only the IV was left.

Everyone would rejoice when it was one hundred per cent clear that he would not only stabilise, but make a full recovery.

Everyone would feel their hearts break when he at last opened his eyes and uttered those heavy, guilt-ridden words, "I killed Keelan Makepeace."

_Be careful what you wish for_, the old saying went. _For it just might come true._

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**A/N:** Would you please read the A/Ns last? Thanks :)

I wrote this because it wouldn't stop bouncing around in my head, but it was a joy to write. I also wanted to experiment with different genres, stuff I've never put together before. Yes, I've never put an angst and friendship thing together, leave me alone. I tried to make it haunting, but I'm not quite sure what I got. I got a mood, though. That's an improvement! Reviews appreciated :D

Mostly though, I wanted to explore the kinds of relationships that Justin, Hilda, the commissioner, and his father might've had with Al. I tried to make this as spoiler-free as possible, but there were somethings that I had to write to make this story clear. For the last sentence on Justin's paragraph, I purposely made it open-ended, or ambiguous, as my English teacher would have me say.

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you guys had a great time reading it. Once again, reviews appreciated, and bye!


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